Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 202(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
And after watching El for five years, he knew El needed him too. El might not have been willing to admit it yet, but the way he’d yielded in sex proved that his attraction to Trig hadn’t evaporated, that deep down, El had missed him just as much.
The burnt scent pulled him out of his head. Cursing under his breath, Trig reached over the smoking barbeque and grabbed the tongs to quickly take the offending piece of meat to a cooler spot at the edge of the grate.
“That definitely needs oiling,” Grim decided, and instead of waking off to get some grease, like a normal person, he picked Misha up and rose with a soft grunt.
It was probably someone’s throat that needed oiling after all that touching, but Trig didn’t care about his friends' sexual habits and nodded, as if he’d believed the excuse. “I’m sure there’s plenty in the garage.”
When Grim and Misha left, Trig was stuck in uncomfortable silence. It pained him that the person whose presence used to be so natural, now seemed so distant, but he couldn’t come up with anything interesting to say. He scraped the bottom of the barrel in his heart and settled on convincing himself that El was actually enjoying this moment of peace. In the alternate world of his wishes, El opened up to Trig’s friends, and neither of them needed to say a thing to know they loved each other.
The arms sliding around Trig’s waist when he flipped the burgers made his heart flutter as if he were a teen again, not a Coffin Nail with several kills under his belt. This was progress.
With a smile, he placed the tongs on the side of the barbeque and turned to face El… who stood several feet away, his face aflame with rage.
Trig squeezed his thighs as if he’d already been kicked in the nuts and quickly peeled away the anonymous hands.
He turned around to face a surprised Hen. The guy was about Trig’s age, a fun redhead always up for a good time. Tall, skinny, adorned with tats, he was Trig’s type and earned the nickname ‘Hen’ because he loved cocks so much.
“I was looking for you earlier,” Hen said with a smile, but Trig didn’t get to answer, because El pushed at him with a scowl.
“Can’t you see he’s busy?”
Hen frowned in return. “The fuck is your problem? Did he not sizzle your hot dog or something?”
Shit. With all that had gone down, Trig had forgotten that he’d promised Hen his time (and bed) tonight, but that was no longer happening.
“This is El. And we just got back together,” he said, choosing to not beat around the bush. Maybe a smile would be enough of a consolation for the pretty redhead whose presence relaxed Trig like no one else’s.
Too bad Trig was attracted to danger.
El’s face flushed bright red, and he threw his empty beer can to the ground. “We haven’t discussed this!”
Hen crossed his arms on his chest. “Can you discuss it after I go down on him?”
Trig wasn’t fast enough to catch El when he bolted at Hen.
“Take a hint, fucking slutmouth!” El yelled and landed a punch in Hen’s stomach.
“Stop it!” Trig hollered and grabbed El from behind, lifting his thrashing body off the ground. “He’s a friend, okay?”
“He’s a friend you fuck! Let me go!” El wouldn’t stop struggling, and while he didn’t try to hit Trig, he kept kicking in Hen’s direction, and the poor guy barely avoided the red boot’s steel cap.
Hen lifted one of his hands in defeat while holding his stomach with the other. “I’ve got better things to do tonight than dealing with whatever this shitshow is.”
“Sorry,” Trig mumbled and carried El closer to the barbeque despite the struggle. “Would you stop moving?” he demanded when El’s heel rolled over his knee.
Hen showed El (or Trig?) the finger as he walked off.
“Put me down!” El demanded, and despite the outburst, all Trig could think of was El’s injured arm, which he was desperate not to hurt any further.
“So are we together or not? ‘Cus you’re sending mixed signals,” Trig growled, but when El’s boot hit the barbeque and made it wobble, he finally let him go, breathless from wrestling the human equivalent of an electric eel.
“I’ve got a lot on my plate, okay? And then you show up out of nowhere, and apparently it’s not nowhere, because you’ve been there all along, and… I missed you, okay? I missed you like hell.” El huffed and ran his fingers through his messy Mohawk. “But not like this. If you want me, let’s go. Let’s leave now. Just the two of us, like it used to be,” he finished in a whisper, but still stood two steps away, as if needing the distance to control himself around Trig.